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I've been going to work and catching rides to school. I've been sleeping in and spending all my money on drugs and losing sleep. I've been awake for twenty-four hours grinding my teeth, and biting my tongue, and chewing out the inside of my mouth. I saw the sunset, the trees turned into monsters and the grass grew over the street, and I watched cartoons on a turned-off television set, and I saw the sunrise. Halloween night, I was invited to accompany Dustin and his Wayne State friends to Ann Arbor for a wildly-acclaimed party on Elm Street. It's almost every Wednesday night I spend time with the group and I enjoy the majority boy to girl ratio. I took a bus to the Wayne State dormitory where everyone was going from room to room in attempts of putting together a suitable costume. I made myself a pussycat in Dustin's bathroom mirror, Nicholas was Charlie Chaplin, Dustin claimed to be Shaggy without at least a green shirt, Nikki was an Indian, and Kyle bust in the room wearing sunglasses, a beanie, about ten necklaces, and a towel over his shoulders. Unfortunately, that's how he's always dressed, but we said he went as someone from the 60's. Dustin parked his car at U of M and we all went inside the dorms to meet up with the second group of party-goers, Kayla and Mitch as Daphne and Freddy, and about five other drunk girls barely dressed in what were their costumes. We all waited outside Michigan for the campus buses to take us to downtown Ann Arbor. After fifteen minutes, our first potential bus ride stopped for us, but was so full of kids, we'd have to wait for another one. A little frustrated, I sat back down on the bus stop bench alone. The intoxicated girls I didn't know were getting on my nerves fast. Kyle came and sat next to me looking happy as a clam. He showed me a burgundy medicine bottle he was drinking. "This has codeine in it." "What is that?" "It'll fuck you up!" I realize, I get that answer a lot. "Is it good? Is it like alcohol?" "Yeah, do you want some?" I swallowed twice. "Woah, you should definitely be good. You're only supposed to take a teaspoon, but.." He laughed. There was my one big mistake of the night that would inevitably ruin the night. We took our next soonest at a bus ride into town on a vehicle smaller than a school bus that ended carrying about 115 people that night. A student crowd surfed down the center aisle. Kayla passed me her vodka over the bus passengers' heads, feeling nothing from the cough syrup, I was heart-set on joining the intoxicated.
Every house on Elm Street had a line of people to get in. Days before, Dustin told me there were an expected 4,000 people. I'd say this was well over 6,000. The groups diverged, going through houses and looking for drugs or more alcohol or people. I took Nikki's hand who began drunker than I, just thirty minutes before the vodka, jungle juice, and jello shots. And I wanted to go dancing. I was having the time of my life for those short hours and then we were all together again, on our way to a frat house or to get a bite to eat. Somewhere my feet were mindlessly following. And then it came over me and I threw up a decent amount in the grass. Like many a other time I've been drunk and sick, I felt fine enough again after puking. Less than twenty minutes later, we were in a Mexican restaurant I only spent a total of five minutes in, in between running in and outside to puke in the trashcan. Sometimes Kayla went with me, sometimes it was Kyle. Rubbing my back, holding my hair or head or hand. I could barely walk at this point, I had just a faint idea of where I was, Kayla kept handing me a bottle of water. We left the restaurant and I made out Kayla saying we were going back to the dorms. Miles and miles away in our predicament, when my legs stopped working completely and no one could shoulder me anymore and I was face down on the sidewalk in my own spit-up. I heard my name and I felt Kyle's hands on my cheeks, my face hovering over the growing puddle of vomit. But I couldn't my eyes, I was so dizzy and weak, I couldn't hear what all was being said and could just barely respond. I was considered unresponsive and practically passed out. I heard a voice on their phone requesting an ambulance and giving the street name. I managed to instruct whoever could hear me to rid my purse of of my bowl, Link, and a Ziploc bag of Vicodin, DOM (LSD), a syringe, and speed. Just in case I ended up getting searched. I wasn't remotely in my right mind. I had given up on walking and now trying to make it anywhere if I couldn't lie down. I was in and out of consciousness, but I heard the siren and I saw a cop questioning someone, he already had my I.D. when two men lifted me onto a stretcher. In the back of the ambulance the two paramedics asked me questions and the cop asked me questions before writing me an M.I.P. and stepping outside of the ambulance. The doors closed behind him as I continued slipping in and out of any awareness.
The men asked me my name. The date. I felt fingers pressing into my neck and around my wrist. Checking my pulse. "Did you fall?" "No." "Do you know where you are?" "I'm in an ambulance." "How much have you had to drink?" "Not as much as I've had before without getting sick." I was just drunk enough to have no recollection of the codeine in my downfall.
"Where do you live?" I threw up down my shirt. "Why are you whining? Stop whining." "Because I'm scared..I want to lie down! I want my mom.." They took blood from my index finger. "Deep breath.." I could hear we were at the hospital now. I could hear screaming and whimpering as they slid a needle into my left arm. I woke up again when they switched the I.V. of water with something the doctor said would help stop the vomiting, the tape ripped the hair off my arm. The nurse started pulling off my hoody. "First, we need to get this off. You threw up on yourself." More moaning and groaning. "I'm sorry." I was apologizing for vomiting all over myself. I had never seen this nurse tonight. Maybe they sent a different one to me each time I woke up.
"I have to pee." "Okay. Can you walk?" "Yeah." I wheeled my I.V. with me to the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror for a long time. My whiskers were dirt smeared across my cheeks and my mascara circled my eyes and collected in dried streaks down my face. My eyes were still red. I glanced around at the people asleep in their beds right next to mine and drunk kids being questioned and nurses discussing their shifts and I let myself fall back asleep as soon as my head hit the place where a pillow should've been.
"Briana..Is it Brianne?" I opened my eyes and turned over. "Brianne." "Where do you live, Brianne?" "Ferndale." "How'd you get out here?" "Friends." "Do you know how you're getting home?" "I don't know..What time is it?" "Five." She brought me a phone because my cellphone was service-less. I dialed the only number I thought I could. "..Hello?" "Hey." "What's up..?" "I'm in the hospital." "What?!" I thought I heard Alyssa's voice boarder crying.
I turned back on my side and pulled the thin blankets over my head. I heard my nurse trading shifts with a male. "Her ride's going to be about an hour and forty-five minutes." "Okay." "She can wait in the waiting room.." "No, it's okay. I'll let her sleep." Thank God for you. Maybe ten minutes later, I felt him check on me and tuck two or three more blankets over me. I felt my teeth chattering. "She's freezing.." "Hey, Brianne." My eyes focused. "Your ride's here." I saw Mrs. T first. She put her hand over my forehead. "Stupid." I tried to smile. Then Alyssa was at my side. "Hey, how do you feel?" She touched my shoulder. "Tired." No. That's not all. Stupid. Dirty. Pathetic and small and weak. Somehow it was already almost eight. "You almost died." I was probably more conscious than I had wanted to be. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that." "Don't be sorry. I meant to tell you before, but I didn't know how. I couldn't bear to lose you." Your selfishness. Your no regrets. The friends you couldn't forgive or forget. Each heart that's broke. Each tear that's shed. All the the time that's spent, one drug to the next one. One day to the next one.
I told Alex Castaneda I didn't like giving a drug credit for a feeling, thought, opinion, anything I had on it. That I'd like to believe the emotion was always there, I just didn't realize it until I was on that drug. When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Because you've changed.
I looked at Alyssa through swollen eyes. I did this to myself and I did this to Alyssa. There's nothing any drug can show you that's not already there. Living in your fantasy world alone up in your skull. Where you make-believe beautiful things and forget everything when you come down. And you find yourself alone in a crowd of people you know nothing about and you find yourself without an interest to. And then you miss out.
I've been missing out. There are so many beautiful things I haven't been able to see. There are so many days I won't ever be able to remember. And I almost lost the most important thing in my life. For nothing. Alyssa's always been there, I just didn't realize it while I was busy doing nothing, but ruining things. How could I abandon everything I love in life? Why did I stop drawing? How did I lose what was once so important to me?
I'm just happy to be alive. I had this coming and I'm afraid if it didn't, I don't know how much more I'd lose.
I watched the sunrise to the sunset. The sunset to the sunrise. Current Mood: busy
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Nobody ever really knows where I've been when we meet again in months, whole seasons. I couldn't tell you, the places don't have names. Some of them I made up, and there's a few that 'never happened', and there's just a lot I don't remember. But I've seen more old faces in one week than I have in the past year. I wonder where they've been, but I don't ask. They ask me all these questions I don't have an answer to, so I make one up. And even when there is a truth, they don't get it. My recent attitude's, 'you fucked up'. And that's reason enough to throw someone away. Because I was telling someone on the phone, I'm angry because I waited so long to be forgiven by the people I've wronged or the people that felt offended by my decisions, and I kept beating myself up over and over again, and they finally did, or put it in their past at least, and when the relationship didn't come back, I realized I never made the time to forgive myself. And to everyone that has ever wronged me, overlooked, I have never forgiven any a one of them. So the bitter thorns in my side just keep throbbing with every breath I take, until I can't see straight and I'm surrounded with strangers I've made out of people I can't remember ever knowing at all. So I found a place I could go and memorize strangers for as long as it's warm outside, but I carried in my past like a knot around my foot. These friends were more like hangmen I invited in, slipping nooses around my neck, carrying mirrors around their chests. So when I tried to see and speak up, I could only choke and end up joining them. I can't claim to be so hard anymore. Alyssa warned me about the people I let back in my life, they seem to deserve it less and less all the time. But I keep smiling and sneaking around what I'd really love to say sometimes, but probably never will.
Rule Number One: Never raise your voice.
Rule Number Two: Only cry when you have to, completely alone.
Rule Number Three: Never use someones' physical appearance against them, it's ignorant, hypocritical, and pointless.
Rule Number Four: Use only the best of your vocabulary to defend yourself, cursing shows only a lack thereof.
Rule Number Five: Don't ever stop defending yourself.
Rule Number Six: Use only what is relevant in the case.
Rule Number Seven: Fight fire with water.
Rule Number Eight: If you're doing anything worth lying about, you're doing something wrong.
Rule Number Nine: Hurting someone is inevitable, don't ever do it intentionally.
Rule Number Ten: No amount of 'wrongs' will ever make a 'right'.
Living by these, still the better person.
"So when you're sorry, and one day you will be, I'll wish you all the best. I hope that you drop softly and it don't end too badly, and you're raging head can finally rest. And you can be honest and rescue yourself. But I walk my own road, I'll go where you won't go. Don't put me through Hell, because now I see through you. Believe what you need to. Go haunt someone else". Current Mood:  truthful
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 It started with a song I was listening to the late winter of 08'. 'Rainbows in the Dark' Tilly and the Wall, "I was kidnapped real young by the sweet taste of love, built a fondness for things that just weren't good enough. I cradled the crow, always shooed off the dove". And because I had nicknamed my significant other, 'Bird', which brought on further ideas of how all people are like birds in your life, in my opinion. You love so many, unless you cage, you can't keep hold of. One never knows when someone's going to up and leave you. Fly away. Some birds are a symbol of good luck and good tidings. And because my 'Bird' was so good to me and who I believe, to this day, was the best decision I failed to make, he was a 'dove'. The yellow bird you've been waiting for. The 'good' one. So if he was the dove, the reason our relationship fell through, was the crow. My first, the only thing I couldn't bear to let go of. No matter how unjust it was for 'Bird' to lose, and I knew old news wasn't best for me at all, I couldn't stop myself from hurting him. And for what was love to me, I couldn't stop from hurting myself. With the end of that tale, I learned yet another lesson the hard way, but also so much more. It's not about bad or good or evil, or love and hate, as much as it is about what's best for you and what's not. You come to realize it's you, and you're one of two of those birds to somebody else. And you've turned yourself into your dove's crow, and your crow's found a dove of their own. Without one, the other would not exist. There is no perfect thing, no perfect person. Finally, I believe your life is bettered by accepting that fact, and embracing each opposite. Love the bad because you're made to appreciate the good. No, these tattoos aren't for anybody, but myself. Don't be ignorant.
Alyssa, Mike, and I went to see 'Dear and the Headlights' for Alyssa and I's second time. I thought they did better. 'Run in the Front's' my usual tearjerker, but this time 'Try' did me in with the line(s), "Sick of coming home with the T.V. mumbling. There used to be a time when you spoke to me with words. I'm swearing up and down saying, 'it's a commitment'. And toasting new beginnings saying, 'sorry, I thought it would work'. All my speech is riddled with annulment. I'm sorry, I'm just doing what I think I should. I don't know when I'll talk to you. I guess when both our eyes have finally died. I still want to try". It was just a reminder that the girl standing right next to me's become a stranger. And everyone I've known, I don't know anymore. They played a fifteen-song set that lasted about an hour, according to Alyssa. I think we've been talking more, now I don't feel so guilty when I tell her I've been doing drugs. The other afternoon at Somerset, over a disappointing lunch, she confessed she is scared of where her and Dalton's relationship is going. "Everybody needed something. Kevin needed a lot of attention, Matt was just crazy.." She never finished her sentence, but I could do that myself. It almost becomes self-destructive in a relationship, any kind, when you believe that your counterpart doesn't need you, therefore you have nothing to offer them. The root of all relationship problems, when it comes down to it, is an imbalance. Regardless of how big or how small. And because we're human, there will always be an imbalance.
Haley's back in high school, her last year, on top of two jobs. She's probably better off than I am now, two years ahead of her. After ten months, we finally got part of a day alone together. And it felt good like old times when we were completely comfortable with each other. It's not when someone keeps your secrets, that you know you can trust them, but when they believe you will keep theirs. Then, after longer than I can remember, we laughed together. (With the help of John's Mac). 
  Current Mood: good
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I have the hardest time trusting people. I stopped letting people in. I have good reasons. I have lacking self-worth. Which looks sad to everyone else who doesn't realize reality can only get worse, if you're comparing it to where you were when you started. I know just how smart and attractive I am based on a majority's opinion. I just don't believe in anyone's obligation to love oneself. If you're doing all you're supposed to do, that's everyone else's job. There's a difference between that and self-respect. Do what you think's best for you if that's what you want. I personally can't fake it. I know right from wrong is just a choice you make to make other people look bad. I live the way I want to live and make me the only person I'm in charge of trying to make happy. If I want, I'll put forth my efforts to focus on somebody else because, 'if you're happy, I'm happy'. The cycle of selfishness never ends, therefore I don't believe anymore self-love is necessary. I get on just fine with what love people are blessing me with. And to be frank, that hasn't done a whole lot of anything for me, I don't need an excess of the shit from myself. For as far as actual self-worth goes, I'd say I mean about as much as everyone else, that's looking at yourself, one of billions of billions of people on the planet Earth. What exactly makes you so special as a unit? Outside of yourself and the minuscule amount of the planet that know you.
Talking to Alexandra Cason brought to my attention another point I'd like to make, when she referred to herself as being a 'slut' as of lately. There has to be a difference between an easy girl and a girl that knows what she's doing. And ask anyone that knows me, I am not easy. The nebulous definition 'slut's' been reduced to has opened up the availability for anyone with a tongue to use it in their offense. Because you've slept with more people than you're comfortable announcing, confessing, admitting. Because you've slept with more people than so-and-so, because they're better than you to somebody? Because you slept with somebody that's slept with somebody else or somebody you might know (somebody that's had sex before). I'm partially-apologetic to inform you, but you probably won't be the last person the person you're sleeping with has sex with. Because you actually enjoy having sex, you may just have a healthy sex life.Or even just because you have had sex. I'm sure these are just a handful of the numerous reasons somebodies going to find legitimate enough to call you a 'slut'. Of course I fully support opinion-based words (insults), but with all that being said, how much worth is really left in the word? None the less, in my opinion, who the fuck's superior enough to judge me and/or my decisions? If you think I'm a slut, then I'm a slut. But I know what I am and what I am not. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your pitiful excuse of the English language will never hurt me. (Or anyone with a spine for that matter). Current Mood: proud
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Another summer has come to it's hesitant or abiding end. I thought I'd make up for my disappeared work with all the warm weather's remnants. Losing the long days, I know, isn't just disheartening for me. So much freedom whether you're still working and going to school or not. Sitting on the bed by the window, I don't care to decorate the room, I won't be here forever. Thinking about days the sun clung to my skin. And if I never had to wear my shoes again. Losing my footing in bathrooms less, as far as means I can't control go.
Megan will have her baby in December. My mom had both her first babies in December. It's a harsh time to leave everything perfect of the womb. I told Megan to watch out for Sagittarius. Can be a little rough around the edges. Knowing winter first, her baby 'Seth', last I heard from her, might just spend his summers trying to crawl back into where he came from.
I can't remember wearing makeup. When my eyes stopped letting me. Or when I needed it. Cutting my hair, as natural as it's been in two and a half years. What can only last so long. My 'kiss list' going from twenty-some to thirty to forty. Remember going steady with just one person and having trouble teaching your lips the rhythm of somebody else? My mouth won't ever remember. The familiarity of a hand to hold yours, somebodies smell only everybody, but they, can smell. You only get a whiff in the oddest corners of the universe, and recognize.
Some of them could dance and pour me drinks, introduced me to puking in front of complete strangers. Breathed vodka into my lungs. They all stayed strangers. Some of them in the month of June wrung my neck, bite down. I wanted to try something new. I've been always bored.
Kit asked me to make love to him. I pulled my shirt over my head and left the room, closed his door, and went downstairs to talk to Daniel. His brother looked just like Conor Oberst and I was so fond of him. I'd go over Kit's house just to get bored with sex and draw for Daniel. He thought he could love me because without my clothes, I was a work of art. And I was so mean. I could only love what Kit sang to me. His 'Bon Iver' vinyl of our 'Skinny love' duet. He gave me 'Neutral Milk Hotel' for all the days that rain, we sang over the CD in his car. I listen to it alone now, sometimes I'm sick of the sound of my own voice. But where did I have room for a two-headed boy?
And then there was Austen Christian Anderson. Born September 9, 1990. Complete Virgo. Never graduated high school. Steals one random DVD from every house party he attends. He lied to me about all of those things and I loved him the most. At least for a little part of July. In his house there was a room with mirrors bigger than the both of us. A bed with white comforters and black trim. A picture of his older sister on the nightstand. He made me undress all by myself, and we made faces at our reflections together. I found a wooden bird with a broken wing one of the places we spent the night, I tied it around his rear view mirror and said, 'it'll bring you luck'. Flightless bird, I'm sure it did. We never made anything beautiful for August.
Most nights my legs were tied up in somebody else, I've lost recollection of. My last letters to Codi and Georgia were only a page long. Maybe that was months ago. When have I told anyone where I've been the past three months? Four or five. Or ten now. There used to be a time I would talk to you with words. How long have you not been able to reach me? Codi stopped writing. I remember the last of what I told her. 'I don't think you put yourself in other peoples' shoes or try to understand their position in a situation, whether you agree with it or not'. Maybe I was right. Codi just turned sixteen this summer. If she's an owl, I'm still a butterfly. Georgia and I have always lived on different pages, so the less I see of her, the more expected our relationship goes. Where she wanted to go, her three months of sun, how would I know?
And Alyssa. The more people asked about her, the less I talked about her, the more it'd sink in, the less of anything we used to have. I stopped talking a long time before I ran out of things to say. After bettering Lice with her loss of Kevin, before just Alyssa fell in love with Dalton. I started jumping at every frequent opportunity to get stoned and sit in front of a movie I can never enjoy sober again. I befriended the bottle and you're my best friend. Beer with the group of boys I think I grew up with. Acquaintances I feel nothing for now. I love Marco, that's true. But anyone I wanted back into my life before, are just strangers in the same bodies. One, I can't even look in the face. So I won't ever alter the last days we lived in the same place I preserved in my memory. I'm always hanging out, but I never spend my time. The ones I most-appreciated aren't around anymore and I appreciate my newer companions or the people that have been in and out. I don't feel close to anything.
The summer stuck to the bottom of my bare feet. Better than the one before, and especially two years ago, but still not so special as before that. I hope the flowers outside your bedroom window keep you company as the Autumn air smothers them to death. I hope your window pane keeps you warm. Before it's cold, I hope you laid on your back in the grass, I hope you saw the stars. And didn't look at them like the lights so far away, their ghosts are still coming back to you. I hope your friend rolled you a joint you smoked on your back that made a movie worth watching, and driving just an arcade video game, and life worth talking about. Think about where all your old friends are right now. Who's posting a blog with a 'sad smiley emoticon', 'Summer's over, I miss you'. Where your siblings are sleeping, who your once lovers are sleeping with. And be happy if you're alone, you won't ruin who you love. Part of my family's where it's 'summer' all-year-round. I'd rather miss it. I'd rather throw up again and be loneliest. The dark circles will appear under my eyes with the lack of sunshine, Vitamin D, and basic human necessities. I'm ready for everything because I don't feel anything. But an obligation-like feeling that I should. Farewell the summer.
Every time you look back at yourself, you feel older. Current Mood:  ready
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You can't change the past. You can't fix it. But you can change right now and fix the future. It's not always a bad thing. Life is a cycle. After the first time with anything, it just repeats itself until the end. So if you ever miss a feeling you forget you ever had, just know in time it won't seem so bad. I've been spending all of my time forgiving and forgetting. Apologizing and accepting. Catching up and correcting 'he said, she said', 'who liked who' jazz. As if any of it would better our understanding of where we're at.
8/13/09: Happy four years, Alyssa.
I was reading back into what I said I never would, correcting spelling and grammar mistakes, trying my hardest not to rewrite the old story. The way things happened as to what's happening now, I've grown so much. I don't feel like I can say 'grown up'. I've just grown, over older feelings and compassion for some things. Things I feel now and again in nostalgia or just memories. Familiarity. After certain points, that's all you feel. I think I was off on a lot of dates. Anniversaries. My memory's giving up on things I still haven't decided whether I want to give up or not. Come next April, I met Haley three years ago. It feels so much longer, everything always does. Like when you go somewhere new, you forgot where you've been. Or how long you were there. Each piece of your life is just another short story after it's over. Marco said he feels like everyone's on the brink of being 'cool' with everyone else again. I guess I feel it too. "Everyone could be happy." I spend a lot of time with Marco and I am happy. It's not just because we finally did shrooms together, or that we now 'exist on a higher plane together', or the shooting stars I saw and the sunrise he saw, or how he thought for a second my backside was a dolphin. It's just because I talk. He listens, and I don't want him to be unhappy and he's there for me if I ever need it. Like Mike. Like Adam, who's finally back home. My best friends.
 
I have been so busy with good times, 'like old times', I've been happy. I just haven't felt like laughing lately. Or doing much of anything lately. Maybe it's because I get sicker sometimes, sometimes I feel like life is not so long. Or I just don't have a reason to laugh anyway.Current Mood:  okay
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Austen introduced me to Carmel. She was playing at 'Aj's' on 9 mile. The three of us all made beautiful music after that. Carmel even asked me to sing with her sometime soon. I don't have the guts for that. Carmel's mom read my palm. She held my hand, 'read my energy', and told me I was perfect. He's not coming back. Someday you will be loved like you've never been loved. You've got so much selfless love in you. You just need to let it come out.
 
 
"I need some reason for this rainy day, I think I found it." "Because I can't argue, I'm leaving."
He never ruins anything, I just don't want to ruin myself. I feel like I brought this on myself. I told Marco's younger sister, Celeste, 'I think some relationships only work in the summer, because of all the free time, and can only last till August.' It's not even August yet. I don't know what's changed, to be undone after all. "Don't trust a heart that's so bent, it can't break." And you can't promise someone you'll fall in love with them. Some people aren't so easily lovable. Look for the ones that want someone to love. Don't exhaust yourself on the ones you know you will love. Some people find it unbelievable to be loved in return. I'm one of those people. Mother. Family. Friends. Growing up. You get over it. And if you don't, you will be stuck that way. And I'm not one to throw my insecurities on other people. You have enough of those already, don't you? And maybe I don't ever want to be found out, maybe that's impossible, like Austen said, but you could try some time.
'No marriage starts off with a serious relationship, but you might want to be serious in a relationship if you're ever going to get married.' Dad, giving his opinion on all the relationships he's seen me get myself in. Is it true you can't love anyone without loving yourself? If nobody can love me, I'd still have myself. If that were the case. Or is it a wonder, for someone who doesn't love themselves, all the loose people (not family) in their lives, they don't love themselves. And that's why they love you. Does that make it less? To be loved. How does your love measure up to someone who's in love with themselves? Because I'm grateful to be this person, but I'm not in love with her. And I can't recall one person who was. In love, because I couldn't have returned the gesture. And what is love? To you. That shy best friend that told you, you were her best friend 'too'. That kid you lost your virginity to, too young or too desperate, knowing you'd never get it back. Some people deserve a disclaimer; Hold on to what you value, because you can't just go out and buy a new one. Was it when you were fifteen and someone wanted to hold your hand? And it felt so nice, you swore she had the prettiest eyes. Was it the day your dad took off your training wheels? Your mother made you a cake when you turned thirteen and you felt things were about to change. Is it the first glimpse she's got of you, bloody, but blanketed on her chest. Does anybody remember their first kiss? Because it may just have been before you were able to open your eyes. Georgia figured it our. "At any stage of your life, to love someone and care for someone just as much or more than you do yourself. There is no selfishness in love." Without selfishness there will be no love. If you can't love yourself, you will have the most-selfless love to use as you please. I know soon, you will be leaving your lover.
I think I knew love before 'best friends', I wasn't fifteen. I never lost my virginity, because technically, I never had it to start. I probably had as many problems in the womb as I do now. My mom made me listen to 'Journey', take that into consideration. Everyone has pretty eyes, my hand's been content with cigarettes for awhile now, and surprisingly fits perfectly into my other one. Quite a few people were born with two. I taught myself to ride my bike to middle school. But I never learned how to lock it up. I prefer walking any day. When I turned nine, my mom and John bought me a lime green 'Gameboy Color' and 'Pokemon: Yellow', and I was happy. I hate cake. I hate most pastry desserts. We went to 'Rain Forest Cafe' instead, for my first time. And Jeff wrote me another birthday card that made me cry. And I remember coming into this place as well as I remember every night I didn't fall asleep sober. Just because she loves you now, doesn't guarantee you'll never be lonely again. But I'd rather be lonely than be with anyone else.
It's been long enough since the last time I spent the actual night, eight hours, over Alyssa's house. I got on her computer to update my Zune, trying to remember music I had been living without, dying to listen to at my own leisure. It would've been a lot easier for her to just download 'The Wall' off a site that's not 'Limewire', but I'm impatient. I got a few songs in. Pink Floyd. And listening, singing along to an album that hasn't made sense since 2007, suddenly gave me the words to explain that summer to someone. I feel so lucky to understand, I am so grateful to my father.
The only thing I left out happening in my summer 07' re-caption, happened sometime in May. May 18, give or take a few days. I was invited to a party. It was a birthday party. And because I 'ran away' with Dominic, my dad made me dye my hair, take out my piercings, and lose a few of the males my seventeen-year-old life revolved around. We'd fight all the time. After Ana left for Mexico, the three of us children became extremely hard to handle and my dad wanted to spend a few days with his parents. I wanted to go to the birthday party. I sat in my bed and I started screaming at the top of my lungs and shaking and crying and there was nothing sane my dad could do. "Don't touch me!" "Why are you shaking? Brianne, stop, you're scaring me." I was scaring myself. Finally I thought he gave up trying to calm me down. "Fine! We're going to Grandma and Grandpa's and I'll drop you off wherever you want to go! You're almost eighteen, I can't make you stay if you're going to leave." I nodded and stared at my feet. I felt bad, but I wasn't going to let him know that. We got in the car. I don't know where my brothers were. I told him, drop me off around 13 and Ryan. At the 11 mile service drive, I knew where he was taking me. "Why are we going to my mom's?!" "..Because I don't know what to do for you and I think you should talk to your mother." I sat in the car, watching my dad talk with his hands and my mom act surprised. I saw John trying to listen-in and that really pissed me off. I wasn't predicting anything, I just opened the door, and took off. My mom screamed, "No! No! Brianne!", over and over. I slowed down in front of the neighbor's house. I knew I could outrun her, but where would I run to? She still grabbed on to me and I started thrashing, screaming, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Let go!" "What is it?!" I was terrified. "I'm not letting you go!" "You hurt me! You hurt me!" Over and over in her face. She let her hands up, bewildered. "You hurt me! You hurt me.." I folded my arms around my body. Crying. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry.." Her hands hovered over my shoulders. She wasn't going to touch me again. It's fair to say that I really believe I lost my mind there. One of the only memories I have of my parents together. Sitting right in the bed of my dad's truck, smoking. I sat between them. I don't remember anything they told me, trying to help, but we were still going to Grandma and Grandpa's and I missed Nabil's birthday party.
Gregory and Tim fell asleep early in the backseat. I was still mute. "I used to listen to this album every time I was upset." "What is it?" It was Pink Floyd's 'The Wall'. He popped it in, everything was quiet. "Aw, this is such a cool part!" He'd occasionally say. "Listen to that guitar solo. It sounds so clean." And after every song, he'd explain what Roger Waters wrote them about. And it was all beautiful. I don't think I could've said two honest words to my father before that. He still doesn't realize what a huge influence that album had on me, and still does. The feeling of being so alone, imprisoned in something you built yourself. And sometimes it gets so hard to come out again when you finally want to. The theory on everybodies 'wall' has been picked apart sometime two winters ago. When anything that means well, makes it worse. You cry it out. Like the good you had taken away, nothing stays the same. And your wall's not so big or not so strong or there's a revolving door. You're going to find a lot of doors in your life, Austen said that to me. And don't get used to it being held open for you.
I could talk forever about what Roger Waters wrote, like what I told Georgia. But a lot of it's like 'Purple Rain', you listen to it, understand it, and there's no way to explain it to anyone else. Like just a feeling you get. Nostalgia. Or sad gratitude. When you look at the sky at a certain time of day, the cloud formations, or the sun setting or rising. And you could've sworn it was the same days, months, years ago. But it's just the same sky, with different deja vu. When I see an airplane from so far away, I feel so sad. If I stare I think I'd start crying. But there's no significance I can remember to answer why. I'll figure it out. Some time. It's in human makeup to forget your happiness, love, and pain. However you felt once before. But you remember what you called the feeling, good or bad. I've figured, like childbirth, if we could remember the detail of past feelings, we'd never do it again.
"All alone or in two's, the ones who really love you walk up and down outside the wall. Some hand-in-hand and some gathered together in bands. The bleeding hearts and artists make their stand. And when they've given you their all, some stagger and fall. After all, it's not easy banging your heart against some mad fucker's wall." Current Mood:  down
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I finally got that reading I was promised, it was unexpected and I couldn't think of anything I felt comfortable asking. Mrs. Cox used tarot cards to depict my past, present, and future with three cards for each place in time. The first theme was 'relationships'. My favorite. After I shuffled the deck and cut the cards, she drew three; the earliest stage of past, present, and future. The first card on the left showed a dim-lit cavern with six levitating stones parallel to each other. The bottom two stones in each row were illuminated, but the final stones were dead and black. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and a little, blue butterfly in the corner. "That light represents where you want to be. Everything looked good, in the beginning everything was great, but as you can see", she pointed to the dark stones, "it really wasn't. There was some kind of imbalance in the relationship, whether it be on your side or vice-versa." "The tables did turn." There was a Taurus symbol in the upper corner of the card. The card to the right of my 'early past', was where I'm at this very moment in time. It had the Saggitarian mark in it's corner. There was a crimson butterfly above a sphere split between the sun and moon, at the fork of a gold road leading to a lit up tower at the end of each road. "Right now, your options are good, you're just not making any decisions. There's a beautiful light at the end of each road, but you have to move forward." The card was called 'Resistance'. "You're still holding back. Maybe because of this card before?" The third card of the first set of three was my early potential future if I chose a certain path. It was the 'Magician'. A Buddhist statue in the center of swirling rings of planets and lights and a single, small butterfly. "This means you are the center of your own universe. This card is a 'changer' and it means something needs to change. Only you can change things in your own life, for the better." She touched the butterfly in each depiction. "I'm going to say this represents you." Taurus, Sagittarius, back to Taurus again. The second three cards drawn were placed directly below their counterpart. The second piece to my past; There were two wands in space, crossing each other, their tips on fire. "You know what the term 'star-crossed lovers' means, right? That's what this card is all about. You're still connected to this person, but it's already bad and I'm not going to say it wasn't meant to be, but I don't see anything good to come from it." The second card symbolizing my near tomorrow, was a ghostly girl, like a statuette, sitting on an isolated rock in the middle of the sea. There were three shooting stars and a faint rainbow light across the waves. The rock's reflection made an ominous, evil-looking face. "That's probably him." After I pointed out the face. "Imagine you're this beautiful woman all alone. There is so much good out there, but you're looking backwards." The girl had her head cranked around her shoulder towards the 'wand' card. "This rainbow is faint, but it's what you want, you're just looking in the wrong direction." And the corresponding future card was a goat on a single, distant mountain in the sea. There were huge, wing-shaped clouds around it and a vivid rainbow reflection in the water. "Now see how big the rainbow is ahead of you? If the girl would just turn her head, she could find what she's looking for. Moving ahead would be the best thing for you." Then came the final three cards to conclude each time passage. My 'past relationship' ended with the 'Mourning' card. "This is the second-worst card you can get. It's a 'death' card." There was a large water droplet, maybe a tear, with three swords piercing all the way through it, over cold, still waters in the same cave, no light. "There is no light in this card at all and this relationship obviously ended worse than you wanted or even expected. Because there are three swords, it wasn't only you and him that were hurt in the end of this. There is nothing you want in this left, and going back to it would bring you nothing, but more pain. This is the death of this relationship." The final 'present' card symbolized potentially where I'll be if nothing changes. Six, gold, levitating goblets parallel to each other, filled with water in an abyss of nothing. But the top goblet on the right had fallen from the others and was poured out, upside down. "There is still a substantial imbalance in your life right now and if things continue along the path of dwelling on the past and remaining at a standstill, someone's going to get hurt. It might not be you, and the imbalance may not even be your fault. But there are no completely mutual feelings between you and anyone else." The last card, the far, far future card. The highest love and happiness card anyone could get. Huge rainbows, gold pieces, blue skies, angels, and three gold rings. "The cards never lie. Your rainbow got as big as it can get. I see none of these things in your past relationship. And these rings symbolize marriage. If you let go of the things of the past that ail you, you will be happy and you will know love like you never have before." There was a Gemini sign in the corner. I felt my face slide off my skull with morose nostalgia. "Our butterfly doesn't appear in any of your future cards, so that represents the person you were, and that person is gone." She did a same-based reading on my career time line, equally-accurate results. And when I left her private room, I felt disappointed and strangely angry. Because sometimes you don't want to believe even the things you feel are true. Like you can just fucking change, just like that. She told me I'll always have to work hard for the things I want. I didn't particularly like the sound of that. I asked if she could predict death. "I don't do that. The day we're born is the day we start dying."
"Show me you love me."
My hair was still wet after two showers in a row. All by myself. Not by myself.
I made this decision because I knew it's what I'd want, not because it'd be easy or what's best or what will even end well, apparently becoming clearer everyday. I suppose it's because he's not obsessed with me. He never answers his phone. He never sets a time frame, and if he does, he's always at least two hours late. He answers my questions by changing the subject or asking me trivial ones he really doesn't want an answer to. He says I ask too many questions, I'm demanding, and judgmental. I called him a lying asshole, started crying, and stormed out of his house. He chased me down the block and we continued arguing until his mother caught up with us and told us to come in for tea. I don't drink tea. We glared at each other across the living room. "Austen's like a salad bar. He's different everyday." "That's not an excuse."
That all started when he tried to make his mother spend seventy-one dollars on tickets for him and I to go see Asher Roth. I didn't care to go to the show for thirty-some dollars. Austen kept whining and I called him out on being jobless and spoiled. He stepped outside to 'clear his head'. "I don't understand.. he's nineteen-" "Is that what he told you? Austen's eighteen." And Austen came back inside and I had 'that look' on my face. Which led to an entire night of arguing. I tried to be nice. He said he preferred me to 'keep my mouth shut' if I'm going to 'say things like that'. And it went back and forth for hours, in spurts. He doesn't need me at all. I don't need this at all. We're together, that's what he told me. And I'm happy with that.
"I don't even know what to say. I feel so imperfect. I feel like I will be engulfed into something and isolated. I can just forget how to be alone. How to cope with that. I've been alone for a long enough time. I can handle that and appreciate it. I see me losing that ability. I don't know what I'm getting into. It makes me happy to care about something that's not easy. But I might be unhappier when it ends. Because I can see the ending from here. A part of me says, 'look around for a backup plan or possibly something better', but the honest part of me, my heart says, 'I don't want to. I don't care if I end up worse than when I started'. As long as I try and feel things. And that makes me feel isolated from everyone because he isn't really ready to be there for me. Give one-hundred percent. I understand that, so I want to stay. And for some reason, there's nothing in me strong enough to argue. My better judgment. Knowing when I'll be hurt. Or if I'm hurting right now. I've cried everyday for about a week now. And I can't even give myself a good reason for it or for any of what I'm going to do because of what I'm feeling. And I'm feeling so angry and confused, but I don't even have any solution. Something's telling me, 'your heart will be shattered. And you're going to deal with it'. I don't have a choice. I don't think he'll ever understand where I'm coming from, but is one of the only people with the ability. I don't want to leave him. He told me today, he's going to make me leave him, if anyone's leaving anyone."
I love you so much. Even though you 'next' me every time we fight.
The last night Alyssa and I spent 'talking' at Leo's, she wanted to leave Alex, her boyfriend then of three days, and I already knew it was over when she asked me what a 'Cancer's' like. Sensitive. Caring. Defensive. Alex is a Taurus. And Kit's a Pisces. I've met a few and from what I've seen, their personal opinion alone, make them look ignorant and impressionable. I am opinionated, but I know when I'm wrong and some things aren't worth even arguing about. I've been told by my victims (usually boyfriends), 'I help you dig your grave, let you lie down in it, and then bury you'. In an argument, I won't lie, I can be vindictive. The further you push what I perceive as stupidity into it, the sharper and sharper my tongue gets. I can be mean. But beside Kit and I's disagreements on everything that's based on opinion, I couldn't take anything further with that boy. I will never be what I want to be in Kit's eyes, and so I would never be happy. I want to be with someone who's opinion makes me who I want to be. We are forcibly defined by anyone's opinions, so I'd like to be with someone that can see what I see in me, or things I'd like them to see and to understand. I guess that's what it comes down to for me. I told Michael I could never be with someone who hates me so much, but is imprisoned by 'love' (at the time). Because I'd hate myself.
Alyssa fell for Caner at first meeting. I don't know when that was or how that went, but she kisses him like someone before. Donald, Dylan, Damien, Derek, Dave. Dalton. I've only met one other 'Dalton' in my existence, in fourth grade. I was so infatuated with him and I would bully him for Zelda guidance everyday. When I moved to Warren in the fifth grade, Patrick looked just like him for a moment, and he guided me through Zelda as much as I wanted, without any bullying. If it's Dalton, Alyssa, and I, I'm talking to Alyssa and Dalton's listening to me and Alyssa's listening to Dalton and Dalton's not talking. I'm happy she's happy. God only knows, that's all I've prayed for her. And we haven't talked. 'You do you, I'll do me'. And I'm happier than I've been before, because I know I'm appreciating every second I'm spending. Imagine dying, and enjoying every second of it. Where there's only one conclusion and you don't have a choice, so you're not worried or scared of something else. It is what it is. You'll be happier. Current Mood: worried
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